Snowstorm Seduction
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: While in London, Chance and Ilsa discover that there's more than one way to heat things up during a snowstorm! Not as M-rated as the summary would suggest but it is rather suggestive and sexy!


The whistle of the wind as it whipped outside and blew snow against the window of the cozy little chalet was drowned out by the soft strains of whatever song was playing on the radio in the corner. A dark, intense orange flame crackled in the fireplace, illuminating the room in a golden glow and throwing long shadows on the wall. The heat emanating from it was comfortable and soothing as it warmed the room, adding to the already relaxed atmosphere. She was curled quite contently on the couch, a blanket thrown haphazardly over her legs and a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. A book rested on her lap, her chocolate brown eyes focused intently on the thin lines of black ink, soaking in every word like a sponge.

"Just the two of us..." His husky voice singing along with the radio drew her attention away from the book.

His blue eyes danced with amusement and the amused smile playing at his lips made her grin. Something about the man's smile was infectious. She let her gaze linger on his amused grin before letting them drift down to his broad shoulders, thick biceps, sinewy muscled chest and down to his wonderfully developed and finely toned abdomen. A light dusting of coarse golden hair only added to the masculinity of the wonderful sight before her.

"Well, hello, Mr. Chance." She greeted casually, unconsciously licking her lips at the sight of his upper body- completely bare and looking rather delicious.

"Hey," Chance greeted, unable to hide his cocky smirk when he noticed her eyes roaming his body. "Like what you see?"

"Yes," Ilsa schooled her features into a neutral expression as she turned her eyes back to the book in her lap and commented lightly. "I'm quite enjoying this book."

His eyes darkened and the cocky smirk fell from his face as he watched her read her book quite intently. Her chocolate brown eyes were scanning the pages, taking in every word and unless he was mistaken, she looked more enticed by the book than she had been by him. Despite his resentment of the fact that a book could capture her attention better than he could, he couldn't help but notice how deliciously inviting she looked. She had managed to make a pair of long dark red flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt, that he was positive she swiped from him, look sexier than he had ever thought possible. The luminescent glow of the fire added a certain warmth and sensuality to her.

"Like what you see?" She mocked him easily, the inflection in her voice playful and seductive.

She closed her book and let it slide onto the floor as she turned so that her back was against the arm of the couch and languidly raised her arms over her head, pretending to stretch just for the sake of enticing him a little more as the t-shirt rode up her torso a little. His eyes darkened a little more and if she wasn't mistaken, he was starting to squirm a little bit.

"Are you okay, Mr. Chance?" She asked him, forcing concern into her voice to hide her amusement at his discomfort.

"Fine. Why do you ask?" Chance ground out tightly, gritting his teeth together.

"You look a little uncomfortable," Ilsa commented, her words dripping with a false worry as she tried desperately to hide her wicked grin.

"I'm fine, Ilse." Chance growled, his voice low and dangerous.

She schooled her features into a concerned expression as she reached over and rubbed circles on his shoulder. His discomfort was growing and his eyes gleamed dangerously, dark with desire and lust. Keeping her wicked grin at bay for just a little while longer, she trailed her long fingers to his neck and gently brushed his pulse point. She trailed down, tracing light circles on his pecs before trailing down even further to his rib-cage.

"You look uncomfortable. Am I bothering you?" Ilsa asked innocently, acting as if she had no clue the discomfort her game was causing him. "I can stop."

"Ilsa!" Chance growled dangerously as her hands trailed down to his abs, fingernails raking across the taut skin of his stomach causing his muscles to clench. He wanted her to stop but dear God her hands were like magic.

"What's the matter? Am I making you uncomfortable?" Ilsa asked him again, forcing a sweet innocence in her voice.

She had to admit, after all of the torture this man had taken over the years from being an assassin to being a bodyguard, watching him squirm in discomfort was rather amusing. For all of his strengths, his one weakness seemed to be women. He could take anything, anybody wanted to throw at him but when it came to women, his bravado seemed to dissipate, actually it seemed to be non-existent when it came to women.

"Jesus!" His strangled growl as he squirmed on the couch, trying desperately to resist her torturous game of seduction, made her giggle in amusement. "Ilsa!"

This was almost too easy. She had never been one for the slow, torturous seductions, usually preferring to get what she wanted without the need for torture. She usually found that her determination was enough to draw them in and that any more was just over-kill but Christopher Chance was different. He had about as much determination as she did so simply going after him was not an option. He didn't necessarily have that determination when it came to resisting her though, as it seemed even Chance was no match for the powers of seduction.

"Ilsa, please, stop!" He finally gasped, shoving her hands away and settling back on the couch, forcing his body back under his control.

The giggle that had been bubbling beneath the surface of her neutral expression finally broke free and she collapsed into a fit of giggles at her victory over him. He looked over at her, his breathing still as erratic as his heartbeat. Something about her was different. It had been since they had arrived in London a few days ago. She was more relaxed and more sexual. He didn't know if it was being back in London or the colder air but something had changed her and God help him, he was starting to like it. Her brown eyes gleamed wickedly and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

"You played me!" Chance exclaimed jumping up from the couch. "You played me, again!"

"It's not my fault you're easy to play with," She grinned innocently, crossing her arms over her chest. "I mean, you were the one that fell for it!"

Well, that hurt his pride. He was a man. He was supposed to be able to resist the powers of seduction. Ilsa, however, was different. She was seduction personified. Any man who could resist the delicious temptation of Ilsa Pucci had to be a blind fool. He, however, was not and was not immune to her wonderful powers, even if she had played him. She did look rather inviting sitting on the couch and the wicked gleam in her eyes was sexy. Before either of them could say another word, he had pounced on top of her and pinned her to the couch, his hands shoving her t-shirt up until he could feel the sensual curve of her hips and the silky smoothness of her skin under his hand.

"What are you doing?" Ilsa asked him in confusion, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Getting my revenge." He gave her a cocky smirk before he crashed his lips against hers.

He shoved her t-shirt up, bunching the fabric in his fingers until he had successfully gained better access to her stomach and his hands could roam as they pleased. Her skin was warm and silky smooth under his rough, callused hands. He growled into her mouth as she scraped her tongue along his bottom him and her hands trailed down his abdomen, fingers tangling themselves in the coarse hair just above the waistband of his pants. As his hips pressed against hers urgently causing her to groan into his mouth, he could only think of one thing.

Revenge was sweet.

xxx

Neither were quite sure how it happened but when they awoke the next morning, they were heavily intertwined and burrowed into the couch, taking up every inch of space. The blanket had fallen to the floor sometime during the night and the fire had died down into glowing embers. The soft whiteness of daylight as it poked through the window prodded them from their deep, hibernation-like slumber. Both were lazy and sluggish as they slowly woke up to daylight peeking in the window and the sight of snowflakes falling lazily outside the window. Neither were in any hurry to move, much to comfortable and already perfectly warm to even think about getting up.

"We should probably get up." Chance mumbled drowsily against her thick black curls.

"We should." Ilsa agreed, even though she was burrowing deeper in his arms. "Warm. Comfortable."

Chance chuckled as he let his eyes drift to the window, watching the snow fall outside. He could only guess that the snow had made it even more miserable than it already was. He dreaded having to get up from his comfortable, warm position, despite that being on the couch. It definitely didn't help that his sexy benefactor had been quite content to bury herself in his arms and forget the fact that they would have to get up.

"We do have to get up eventually, you know?" He looked down at her, snuggled against him comfortably and looking for all the world like a happy woman.

"No," Ilsa mumbled in raspy voice, her accent thick and just by her tone he could tell that if he got up, certain death would be imminent. "Stay."

"Ilsa," Chance drawled, needing to get up before he was reached the point of no return and wound up snuggled on the couch with her all day- not that, that would have been a bad thing but he was in need of some coffee.

"No." Ilsa insisted childishly, still perfectly content with being on the couch.

With a quick rack of his brain and a slight Machiavellian leer, he came up with the only possible solution that he could think of and carefully flipped them over so that he lingered on top of her. Her chocolate brown eyes flew open at the sudden change in position and a quick glance at the look on his face told her that he was responsible and that she would probably enjoy his next move. The confident leer disappeared as he crashed his lips against hers, unable to resist the temptation of her pouty lips.

"You really need coffee, that bad?" Ilsa teased breathlessly when they pulled away for air.

"How'd you-?" He looked at her in confusion.

"That's the first thing you go for in the morning." Ilsa told him softly, "I figured if you tried to trick me into letting you up, you probably wanted coffee."

"I did not trick you." Chance told her defensively, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth as he teased her. "At least I didn't play you like you did me."

"Chance, you're on top of me thanks to a cunning maneuver on your part, I think that qualifies as playing, don't you?" Ilsa returned sharply, still breathless.

"I thought I tricked you?" Chance questioned with a cocky grin.

"Tricked. Played. It's all the same at this point, don't you agree?" She asked him, slipping her hands from around his neck and down to his biceps.

"If I agree with you, do I get coffee?" Chance asked her with decidedly child-like pout.

She playfully pushed him off of her, following his shapely rear with her eyes as he walked into the kitchen to start the coffee. That was a finely shaped rear and definitely something that should be thoroughly enjoyed when the opportunity presented itself. A sly smile tugged at her lips as she stood up and followed him into the kitchen, her eyes easily finding that wonderful view she had thoroughly enjoyed not moments before. She walked over to him and slipped her arms around him from behind. He turned around and wrapped his arms around her, before turning them both and pinning her to the counter.

"I think I found something I want more than coffee," Chance grinned, just centimeters away from being able to kiss her senseless.

"What's that?" Ilsa questioned, gripping his shoulders.

"You." He growled just before he caught her lips in a bruising kiss.

He slipped his hands under shirt and rubbed circles on her back with his fingers, barely able to keep from grinning against her mouth when she groaned. Oh yes, he was definitely going to have to choose Ilsa over coffee more often.

Dear God, he may never get out of bed again.

* * *

><p><strong>Hehe! Couldn't help that last line...too much Maroon 5, I guess. Niagaraweasel, I hope you like the direction I took this in :) I went back and forth between this story and another draft I started that was much softer, much less sexed-up, much more sweet and gentle but that's just not Chance and Ilsa. They were always like fire and gasoline. Equally as dangerous on their own but explosive together. There wasn't much soft, sweet and gentle about their relationship, in fact it was the volatility of it that made that much more explosive, so I went with the sexed-up version and believe me when I say that writing the lovely little torture scene was not only a lot of fun but a lot of laughs! Anyway, leave me some love Dolls! <strong>

**Love, **

**RobertDowneyJrLove **

**P.S. Let me know if you got the song reference *wink***


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